


The Horse Prince

by bluebacchus



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: A Man and his horse, Comedy, Horses, Literal Horse Boy Edward Little, M/M, Magic, Other, fairy tale AU, mentioned Jop/Sol/Little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebacchus/pseuds/bluebacchus
Summary: A lonely woodcutter saves the life of a horse in an enchanted forest.[You've heard of horse boy Edward Little, now get ready for straight up horse Edward Little]
Relationships: Edward Little/Solomon Tozer
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	The Horse Prince

**Author's Note:**

> As I always say, it's not bestiality if it's in a fairy tale! (It's ok, it's just a kiss in the style of Frog Prince)
> 
> Fill for theterrorbingo: "Sugar Bowl"

There once was a Royal Marine named Sergeant Solomon Tozer. The ‘Sergeant’ wasn’t part of his name, of course; it was his rank. He was a good Marine: skilled in handling arms and had a knack for instilling loyalty in his men. He enjoyed the camaraderie and the physicality, though Solomon had his gripes. His men were always the first to engage in conflict, and during the War, there was conflict aplenty. First to battle, first to die, but the last to receive recognition and reward. His Marines didn’t even receive double pay like the knights that galloped past the fields of dead ogres on their way to slay the evil being who terrorized the kingdom: a White Imp named Perialism.

The War was slow to begin, a creeping, insidious thing that became a way of life far too soon. It ended in the flash of a dagger made of bone and Lady Silna holding the Imp Perialism’s head in her hand. Like Solomon and the Royal Marines, she received no reward, no recognition. With his dying breath, the Imp Perialism cursed the royal family, and no one had seen hide nor hair of the governing family since.

“This doesn’t solve anything,” Lady Silna said in the fifteen seconds she was allotted to speak of her victory. Solomon felt that. He retired from the Royal Marines, sold all of his belongings, and went to trade school to learn how to be a woodcutter.

🐴

Sol the Woodcutter was a solitary man. He was only visited on occasion by his old comrade, Bill Heather. When Bill showed up at Sol’s lonely cabin, they would spend the night drinking mead and reminiscing about the good times they had before (and, occasionally, during) the Imp Perialism War. Bill hailed from the North, and he brought news that Lady Silna the Imp Slayer was doing well. She had recently slayed another Imp named Civ Ilizing, who was on a mission to “save” the people. Of course, by “save”, he meant “imprison, enslave, and murder”, as nasty White Imps tend to do. Along the way, Lady Silna had discovered a young healer named Harry Goodsir, who was, in fact, a good sir. Some rumours, Bill said, told that theirs was the truest, purest love in all the kingdoms, but some rumours disputed this and said their friendship was the truest, bravest friendship the world has ever seen. Either way, Sol was pleased for Lady Silna, but also slightly jealous. He was alone in his cabin with nary an animal friend to keep him company. Even Gibson the Ratcatcher had a magical talking rat to speak to!

This was soon to change.

One day, Sol the Woodcutter was out cutting wood. The sun was high and the wind quiet. He enjoyed listening to the sound of the leaves rustling in the slight breeze. The birds chirped happily, the squirrels chattered, and in the distance, a doe and her fawn nosed through the grass, looking for food. Against all these pleasant sounds came a low, desperate whinny. Sol had not seen a horse since his time as a Marine, but he knew the sound of an injured steed when he heard one. He picked up his axe and his bag (which contained his First Aid Healer’s kit, which he never left home without) and followed the sounds.

He came across a narrow, burbling stream. A thicket of brambles had fallen across the water, and trapped inside was a horse with a deep chestnut coat and the saddest brown eyes Sol had ever seen. He stepped gingerly across the stream and reached a hand into the thicket of thorns. The horse neighed and snorted, thrashing within its prison and tearing its skin in the process. Sol dropped the axe and his bag and held up his palms.

“I’m not going to hurt you, fella,” he said. “I’m going to get you out of here.” The horse neighed again, quieter this time, and stilled. It made another of the deep, mournful sounds that had alerted Sol and looked at him with intelligence in its beautiful eyes.

“There we are, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m going to cut some of these branches away.” The horse pushed its nose forward into the brambles, and Sol reached out. This time the horse did not back away. It pushed its velvety nose into Sol’s hand. He rubbed it soothingly.

Sol’s First Aid Healer’s Kit was well stocked in its enchanted bag. It folded down to the size of an Altoid tin (Sol’s third-favourite mint brand in the kingdom) and opened into a tool kit the size of… well, a tool kit. The top layer was filled with potions made from natural ingredients. Sol didn’t trust the ones manufactured in labs. He preferred to drink ground up roots and molasses to cure his diarrhea than some ungodly pink concoction they sold in the apothecaries. The second layer was deeper than it looked and was filled with gauze, bandages, Sir Lister’s Own Antiseptic Wipes, and splinting materials. Finally, underneath all of that, was a pair of bolt cutters. Multifunctional in that they could cut bolts, brambles, and ogre’s toenails, Sol always made sure he had a pair of bolt cutters in his kit. He set to work snapping off the thick branches that wrapped around the beautiful brown horse.

Finally freed, the horse whinnied happily and rolled out of the thicket, but it would not stand. With a start, Sol realized that one of the horse’s back legs was broken. He opened up his kit again, and set to work bandaging and splinting the broken leg. The steed was still bleeding from a deep scratch in its side, so Sol wiped it down with Sir Lister’s Own Antiseptic Wipes and slapped a big blue bandage over the laceration. When he was done, he crawled over to rub the horse’s nose again.

“You should be able to stand up now,” he said. “I fixed you up alright, but you should come home with me. I’ll take care of you while you heal.”

He didn’t pause to think about where he would keep a wild horse. Helping animals was simply the right thing to do.

🐴

  
“I don’t have a bed for you,” Sol said. “I’m sorry, Horse.” ‘Horse’ didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to call his new friend. “Horsie?” Sol tried. “Beautiful Steed?” The horse snorted and grimaced.Sol realized that he had nowhere to stable a horse as he arrived at his cabin in the Moonlit Clearing. It was not yet moonlit as the sun was still up, but soon it would live up to its name. Sol’s cabin was a difficult address to deliver mail to during the day, as its only defining feature was the moonlight that lit it up. (Postmaster Jopson only came during the night, but that might also be because he was a vampire.) With a sigh, Sol held the door open for the horse, which ducked inside his one-room cabin and stood expectantly next to the sofa.

“I’ll figure something out,” Sol muttered. In apology, he gathered a small pile of apples and dropped them at the horse’s feet. The horse pouted at him for a moment before slurping up the apples. Sol set to work preparing his own dinner, and by the time night fell over the moonlit clearing, Sol and the horse were sitting (or standing, in the horse’s case) in front of a roaring fire. Sol had just tended his raspberry bush yesterday, so he treated himself to a bowl of fresh raspberries. He brought the sugar bowl out and crumbled a sugar cube over the red berries. As he raised the first one to his lips, he was aware of a pair of big, sad eyes watching his every move. The horse had stuck its tongue out and was drooling on his floor. Sol offered the horse a raspberry. The horse snorted and licked the tiny berry.

“Thanks,” Sol said. Then he shrugged and ate the berry anyways. He’d eaten worse things as a Royal Marine. He reached into the sugar bowl and held out a couple of sugar cubes. He offered them to the horse. This time, the horse wiggled in joy and slurped the sugar cubes from Sol’s hand. He patted its nose and let the horse nuzzle against his face. It was nice to have company, Sol thought, even if it meant having a horse take up all the free space in his home.

🐴

When Sol woke up the next morning, he nearly blew an aneurysm. The horse was sprawled on its side, unmoving.

“Horse! Horsie!” he called. He was about to get up and shake the horse and check its pulse. But the horse grunted in alarm and rolled over, knocking over Sol’s bookshelf in the process. The books tumbled to the ground and the horse squealed, bucking up and kicking its uninjured back leg straight through Sol’s couch. Alarmed, the horse made a sound that could only be described as a very human-sounding “Ahhh,” and fell to its front knees, snapping at the air and looking generally pathetic. Sol climbed out of bed in his sleeping clothes (that is to say, no clothes at all) to help the poor horse. The horse calmed when it saw him, watching him with wide eyes as he circled around to bend the springs in the couch and free the horse’s leg. The horse nickered quietly, watching him over its shoulder. Sol could feel his muscles straining as he held the springs apart, but the horse did not move its leg. It simply stared at him. The horse stuck out its tongue. Sol didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll give you sugar cubes if you get your leg out of my couch?” he tried. He didn’t expect the horse to understand, but the horse carefully extracted its leg. It looked mournfully at the mess it made and nosed some of Sol’s fallen books into a small pile.

“You’re a smart guy, aren’t you?” Sol said. “Smarter than most of my Marine Lieutenants.” Hearing the word ‘lieutenant,” the horse snorted and stamped its feet.

“Lieutenant? You like that?” The horse bobbed its head and snorted again. Sol got out the sugar bowl and held it up for Lieutenant. The horse stamped its front feet again and joyfully stuck its tongue into the sugar bowl. It pulled back with eight cubes stuck to its pink tongue, then devoured them all.

“You sure like sugar,” Sol says. “Remind me to introduce you to vegetables later.”

🐴

Lieutenant became a fixture in Sol’s life and in his home. After the first night, Sol was no longer shocked to find his horse lying down in front of the fire, deeply asleep. He figured it meant that Lieutenant felt safe with him, and he felt flattered more than anything. He was never really into horses-- Pilkington and Hedges would always fight over who got horse duty for the week and he never understood why—but now he got it. Lieutenant was beautiful, with a thick, dark mane and a stocky build. He was powerful but graceful, even when he stumbled because of his still-healing back leg. Sol took him out for walks to get his strength back, but he didn’t ride him. Lieutenant wasn’t a horse meant to be ridden. He said as much one day on one of their walks. Lieutenant stopped walking and sighed.

“What are you sighing for, Lieutenant?” Sol asked. “What could be so bad about being a horse?”

Lieutenant surprised him by rearing back on his hind legs and blowing out an angry snort of air. He trotted in a circle around Sol before letting out another sad sigh.

“D’you want me to ride you?” Sol asked tentatively. Lieutenant stamped his hooves and whinnied.

“Okay,” Sol said. “I guess we’re going bareback.”

Lieutenant nickered happily, wiggling his hindquarters before settling down so Sol could hop on a log and throw a leg over Lieutenant’s back. The horse let out another sigh, but began to trot along the forest path. Riding Lieutenant came naturally, and Sol let the horse choose their destination. They trotted down the path until they were deep in the woods, stopping only once to drink from the cool, clear stream. Finally, Lieutenant pushed through a wall of ivy that Sol discovered hid the entrance to a cave. Lieutenant snorted, and Sol dismounted. The cave was littered with debris: torn clothing made from fine fabrics; pages from a book of spells; a small sack of gold, tied with a silver string. Sol looked around. It seemed that whoever lived in this cave was long gone. He pocketed the money. Lieutenant looked at him with his intelligent, sad eyes.

“Sugar cubes are expensive,” he said with a shrug. Lieutenant nickered quietly. The horse was ambling around the cave, nosing at the ground. He stopped at one spot, stamping his front hooves over a small, flat stone.

“What’s over there?” Sol asked. Lieutenant moved back to press his nose into the ground next to the stone. Sol crouched next to the patch of earth and began to dig. About a foot down, he touched something smooth. He dug it out, and left the cave to examine his find in the sunlight. It was a carved piece of rose-coloured wood, polished to a shine. It ended in a circular stamp, and though reversed, it was a symbol Sol had seen before: that of the royal family. He looked back at the cave. Lieutenant was sticking his head out from between strands of ivy, tongue poking out.

Sol shook his head. It didn’t make sense! This was an official seal of the royal family—he could tell because of the pink wood, for roseberry trees only grew on the palace grounds—and it was buried in a cave? And how did his horse know where to find it?

Lieutenant nudged Sol’s cheek with his nose and, still pondering this new mystery, Sol reached up to pat his horse. “You know the answers, don’t you?” he asked, but Lieutenant just stared, eyes soft and dark where they met his own.

🐴

Sol put the royal seal on his bookshelf and quickly forgot about it. Winter was coming and he had much to do to prepare. Wood was always in high demand. He enlisted the help of Postman Jopson to help manage his winter deliveries, but he found with Lieutenant’s help he didn’t need much help at all. Lieutenant pulled Sol’s little wood cart with no complaint, as long as Sol wrapped his nicest blanket around the horse’s midsection. Lieutenant seemed to like the long walks between cabins where it was just he and Sol. Sol would talk to his horse, and Lieutenant would listen. At the end of each day, Sol would hold up the sugar bowl and let his faithful steed take what he wanted. He used the gold found in the cave to buy more sugar when they were running low, and on one trip to town he found a beautiful, navy blue horse blanket. He waited until they were back home to wrap it around the horse. Lieutenant looked at himself in Sol’s little mirror and neighed, doing a fancy pirouette and striking a pose. Sol laughed.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “The most handsome horse in all the kingdom.”

Like always, Lieutenant bent his neck to nuzzle against Sol’s cheek. Sol threw his arms around his beautiful horse and held him close. He could feel the breath on his neck, the warmth of his companion, and, purely on instinct, Sol pulled back, looked Lieutenant in the eye, and pressed his lips to the horse’s.

Kissing a horse was not great. Lieutenant, like all horses, had really big teeth and not a lot of lip, so it was kind of like kissing a pair of dentures. But then, a strange light began streaming from Lieutenant’s belly, followed by a swirl of purple sparkles. Before his eyes, Sol’s horse transformed into a man. He had the same sad, brown eyes as Lieutenant, and the same thick, dark hair as the horse’s mane. He was as handsome as Lieutenant was beautiful, and here he was, wrapped equally in a navy blue horse blanket and Sol’s arms.

“Thank you,” the man said. There were tears in his eyes, and before Sol could respond, the man was kissing him. Kissing the man was much more pleasant than kissing his horse. His lips were soft, mouth desperate and searching, and the man felt solid in Sol’s arms. But he had to know.

“Why is my horse now a smokin’ hot dude?” Sol asked.

The man chuckled. “I was cursed. The Imp, Perialism, killed my family with a curse when he was killed by Lady Silna. I escaped and hid in the cave. But then the other White Imp, Civ Ilizing, discovered my hiding place and cursed me to live as a horse in the woods for the rest of my days unless I was able to find true love in my equine form.”

“That’s messed up,” Sol said.

“Did you expect anything less from the Imp behind the Civ Ilizing Mission?”

Sol grimaced. “You’re right. But who are you?”

The man smiled and pointed to the royal seal, still sitting on Sol’s bookshelf. “My name is Prince Edward, the sole heir to the throne.”

“Whoa,” Sol said. “Does this mean that I’m going to move to the capital and be your queen? Because that’s a nice idea, but I moved here to get away from the politics.”

“No way,” Prince Edward said. “Do you know how many letters I must have gotten in the years I was cursed? I was already behind when I got turned into a horse. I’m staying here. If you’ll have me,” he added, looking shyly down at his bare feet.

Sol embraced Edward. He still smelled horsey, but Sol found he didn’t mind. “Of course you can stay. It's true love, isn’t it?” He pressed his forehead against Prince Edward’s. “Plus I can’t have you going and telling everyone I kissed a horse. It’d be bad for my image.”

“I’m not going to tell, so you might as well kiss this horse again,” Edward said seriously.

Sol smiled, and did just that.

_🐴 One Year Later 🐴_

Prince Edward made only one appearance in public since Sol broke the curse. He showed up at the capital, overthrew the kind but hubristic Sir John Franklin, and declared that he was dissolving the monarchy and going to live in the woods with a sexy woodcutter named Sol. The kingdom was shocked, but ended up being quite enthusiastic about Lady Silna’s newly established democracy. Used to a benign dictatorship, the people of the kingdom nicknamed her “Prime Minister Silence” because she did not command them, but rather enjoyed their opinions, even though she often told them they were wrong. Harry Goodsir became her queen, and she was assisted by Cosmopolitan’s Sexiest Person Alive, Vice President Issaluk, known also as VP Hot Shaman, which was his DJ name. He played at various taverns across the kingdom with no threat of assassination; he was well loved by the people, and his extreme sexiness created an aura of peace wherever he went.

Sol and Edward returned to Sol’s cabin in the Moonlit Clearing where they lived happily. They had no visitors except for Bill Heather and Postman Jopson, who came when the moon was high and the nights were long. Sometimes he stayed for many nights, for Edward had been a chaste horse and now had a voracious appetite for handsome men. Neither Sol nor Tom, for that was the Vampire Postman Jopson’s given name, minded overmuch. They were content to take turns, or both join in, or on occasion, couple together while Edward munched on sugar cubes and watched their shared ecstasies. It was a happy, peaceful arrangement, made all the better by the fact that Edward no longer smelled of horse. Though sometimes, at night, Sol would wake and see Edward holding up the sugar bowl, clandestinely scooping up small piles of sugar cubes with his tongue.

The End.

🐴🏇🧛

**Author's Note:**

> This is how horse Edward sleeps  
> https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Rw3el_LHwy8/maxresdefault.jpg


End file.
